


Requesting Backup

by discooperator



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band), The Cybertronic Spree (Band)
Genre: Gen, as opposed to spicy violence, at least one transformers reference, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discooperator/pseuds/discooperator
Summary: TWRP teams up with another otherworldly band based in Toronto to fight off a vengeance-seeking army of Boredom.





	1. Trouble Again

Doctor Sung and Havve Hogan were seated across from each other at a workbench in their basement, an ocean of tools scattered around them, tinkering with their respective projects. The guts of an old radio were spilled before Havve’s hands, the empty maw of the casing placed upright, partially obscuring his view of whatever Sung was doing across from him. 

“Havve,” Sung suddenly piped up, “hand me that screwdriver.”

“THE PHILLIPS OR THE FLATHEAD?”

“Flathead.” Barely looking up from what he was doing, he took the screwdriver from Havve, mumbling a “thank you very much” as he immediately put it to use.

A few minutes of silent working passed before Havve’s curiosity overcame him, and he asked, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, EXACTLY?”

“Oh, nothing important. Just messing around with this spare robot arm.” A pause. “What’re  _ you _ doing?”

“I AM TRYING TO MAXIMIZE THIS RADIO’S ABILITY TO PICK UP FREQUENCIES SO THAT WE CAN PERHAPS PICK UP SOME NON-EARTH SIGNALS.”

Sung nodded in understanding, and once again, they fell into the near-wordless routine of working side-by-side, only occasionally asking for a tool to be passed or workmanship to be appraised. This continued for approximately an hour, until Havve had returned the radio’s innards to its casing and plugged it in for a test. Sung tore himself from his work, which he had barely made any progress on, to watch.

“THIS BETTER WORK,” Havve said, more to himself than to Sung, as he turned the radio on and began slowly moving the dial, trying to find a station, any station, as long as it wasn’t on Earth.

Sung put his elbows on the workbench, then his chin in his hands, listening intently to the harsh static and the bits and pieces of voices and music that cut through it. He noticed Havve’s shoulders slumping, about to admit defeat, that despite his work the radio was still weak, and then…

“Wait… Go back to that last station.”

The bot did as instructed. The channel in question seemed to be an open one, broadcasting a repetitive series of beeps. 

“DOCTOR, I DO NOT SEE THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS CHANNEL. IT IS JUST A LOT OF—“

“Shush!” Sung lunged over the workbench to put a finger up to Havve’s faceplate, punctuating the exclamation. “ _ Listen. _ ”

The beeping persisted. 

“IT IS MORSE CODE,” Havve finally said. “AN S.O.S.”

“Hook up a microphone. I’m answering it.”

“WE HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IT IS COMING FROM.”

“I’ll do it myself then,” Sung stated as he reached behind him to grab a spare mic, plugging it into the radio. He gave it three light taps to ensure that it was working, then said, just a tad urgently, “Hello? Is anyone there? Over.”

Three more beeps emanated from the radio, then all sound ceased. After a few seconds, there was static, then a click, then a very faint and staticky, “He—o? We r—d -ou. Over.”

“Your signal is faint. Why are you broadcasting? Over.”

There was about a minute of pure static before another response. “Best I c— do. G—ng to be s— static. This is Major —— broadcasting from — Kepler System. We just wat—d an army pass through. H—ded for Earth. Over.”

Sung’s jaw dropped, and Havve leaned forward, now intrigued and slightly concerned. 

“A—an army?” Worry filled Sung’s voice, and he hoped whoever was on the other end couldn’t hear it. He met Havve’s emotionless gaze, then fleetingly glanced at a large metal tube in the far corner of the basement.

“Affirmative.” The voice on the other end spoke slowly, seemingly to lessen the chance of being interrupted by static. “I believe… they call themselves… Boredom. Over.”

Havve banged his fist on the table, scattering tools, knocking some to the floor. 

“Th—thank you very much, Major,” Sung said, his speech becoming hurried. “We’re currently on Earth and we’ll do what we can to intercept that army. Your information is invaluable. Over and out.”

“WAIT—“

He switched off the radio. 

“I THOUGHT WE ELIMINATED BOREDOM,” Havve said, hitting his fist against the table again. 

“We  _ did! _ ” Sung responded. “We wiped out their leader years ago! And now they’ve raised another army?! And they’re coming back?!” He stood, looking at his surroundings as if in a daze, hands shaking.  

“YOU FORGET, DOCTOR, THEY LACK A LEADER.”

“Maybe they found a new one!”

“DOCTOR,” Havve started. 

“Yes, Havve?” Barely above a whisper. This was not a thing to be taken lightly, but Sung was already taking it too hard, letting it get to him. 

“WE NEED TO STOP IT.”

Sung nodded, took a deep, shaking breath, then ran up the stairs and out of the basement, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. 

After what seemed like mere moments but was actually closer to ten minutes, Commander Meouch and Lord Phobos had been corralled into the kitchen, seated in chairs, and made to listen to Sung’s full recounting of the discovery of the radio signal and the apparent impending attack of Boredom.

“And you’re  _ sure _ they said Boredom?”

“Yes, Commander! My ears are fully functional!”

Sung let out his fifth exasperated sigh in just as many minutes as Meouch and Phobos stared dumbfounded at him and Havve. Whether or not the signal Havve’s radio picked up was legitimate was not, in his opinion, something to debate. The Doctor fully believed that Boredom could strike any day now. Havve was not quite as paranoid, but did agree with the fact that the signal was real, and the possibility of an attack was worth preparing for.

“ _ Perhaps we should do some more looking into it _ ,” Phobos offered. 

“I AGREE, HOWEVER, WE MAY NOT HAVE MUCH TIME FOR RECONNAISSANCE.”

“So you wanna stop Boredom before it even gets here?” Meouch asked. This was followed by a muttered, “If it’s even coming.”

All three looked at Sung. 

“I—“ He started, then stopped. After a moment’s pause, “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“Could we warn the humans or something? Get them on our side, maybe?” Meouch questioned, obviously grasping at straws. 

“NO!” Sung and Havve blurted in unison. Sung continued, “The people here still think we’re just idiots in costumes. They think everything we do is a gimmick! We can’t trust them to believe something like this, much less help us get rid of it!”

“Fair enough.”

“ _ Is there anyone here we  _ could _ ask for assistance? _ ”

Meouch ran a hand through his mane. “Phobos, how many alien bands do you think there  _ are _ on this rock?”

Phobos looked away, slightly shrugging. 

Sung, on the other hand, perked up, as if having an epiphany. He tilted his head slightly to the left, tapped an index finger rhythmically against his chin, then said, “He might be onto something. We aren’t the only band of aliens on Earth. Hell, we aren’t the only band of aliens in this city!”

“I don’t follow.”

“NONE OF US DO, COMMANDER.”

“ _ Who are the others? _ ”

Abruptly, Sung stood, still tapping that finger against his chin, now pacing back and forth across the room as the other three watched. “They’re a little, uh, different from us, but not so much that they won’t get where we’re coming from. They have a history of fighting battles. There’s seven of them… Yeah,” he muttered, speaking as if only to himself, “they’re perfect.”

Sung had stopped pacing, and Meouch leaned back in his chair, twisting around to look at him, threatening to tip the thing over. “But who are they?” He asked. 

Doctor Sung, fresh off a “eureka” moment and back to his cheery self, spun around with a mile-wide grin and said three words: “The Cybertronic Spree.”

“THE WHO?”

“No, not The Who, The Cybertronic Spree!” He repeated a little too enthusiastically. 

“Never heard of ‘em,” Meouch said, letting the front legs of his chair reunite with the floor with a resounding crack.

“ _ Neither have I. _ ” Phobos leaned forward, and it was hard to tell if his intrigue was real or feigned.

“ARE YOU REFERRING TO THAT BAND OF TECHNICOLOR ROBOTS?” Havve asked before Sung could launch into another confusing tirade.    


Meouch and Phobos glanced from Sung to Havve and then back to Sung, waiting for one, or both, to further explain what the fuck was going on. Neither entirely bought the story about the radio signal, but were willing to play along. If there was a potential threat, it never hurt to be prepared. Dragging another band into it, though, seemed a bit excessive. Boredom was their battle to fight, whether it posed a real danger or not. 

However, if there actually was a fresh army of Boredom on a warpath with Earth in its sights, it wouldn’t kill them to have a group of robots on their side.

For the most part, Sung ignored Havve’s jab at the other band. “You guys don’t remember? I showed you that documentary they were in!”

Meouch furrowed his brows. “ _ Transformers: The Movie _ ?”

“That’s the one!”

Phobos sighed, shaking his head. Just about every cheesy action movie on Earth was considered a documentary to Sung, who almost never deemed anything too ridiculous.

“So they’re a band of—“ Meouch started, almost didn’t want to finish, but forced the rest of the question out anyway. “—transformers?”

“Precisely!”

“And they’re the real deal...?”

“Absolutely!”

Meouch’s head hit the table with a soft thunk. “I can’t believe this,” he sighed. 

Lord Phobos fought the inclination to repeat the Commander’s action. Instead, he made a valiant effort to keep things serious, asking, “ _ How do we contact them? _ ”

“Hmmm…” Sung began pacing again. “From what I’ve gathered, they don’t go out much. Too easy to recognize.”

“Isn’t their whole shtick the fact that they’re robots in disguise?” Meouch asked, picking his head up from the table, before Havve promptly pushed him back down. 

“YOU TRY EXISTING AS A SENTIENT ROBOT ON THIS FILTHY PLANET. EVERYONE WANTS TO SEE WHAT MAKES YOU TICK.”

“ _ How do we contact them? _ ” Phobos added some emphasis to the question this time, steering the rest of the band back to the topic at hand.

“Like I was saying,” Sung continued as if nothing had happened, “they don’t go out much. I’d say our best course of action is to attend one of their shows and catch them after it’s over. They have one coming up near here. Tickets might sell out...”

The last bit was said as an afterthought, but Havve, cellular device in hand, declared, “I WILL TAKE CARE OF IT.” Anything to keep Sung from worrying himself silly over it. If he wanted to talk to these robots, then Havve would make it happen. However, he was not going to guarantee their willingness to comply with the Doctor’s wishes. That would be left up to them.


	2. Danger! High Voltage!

The venue was packed to the brim, not the largest the band had ever seen, but not on the smaller side, either. The crowd was already excited, for a good reason, and when a scattered few humans noticed Rumble peeking his head out from backstage, they cheered, causing a small uproar. The purple bot laughed as he ducked back out of sight, idly twirling his drumsticks.

“What’s the crowd look like?” Hotrod asked as he adjusted the strap of his bass.

“Crowded!” Rumble replied. “I thought I saw some strange faces in the back, but I’m not sure.”

“Rumble,” Arcee piped up from where she was standing a couple feet away, staring intently at her reflection in a small, cracked mirror, tube of cherry red lipstick in hand, “I thought we agreed to stop calling the humans strange.”

“Uhhh, I dunno if these were humans.”

The whole band of robots looked up from whatever they were doing, interest piqued.

Rumble continued. “They were waaaaay in the back, kinda hiding from everyone else, dressed funny, one of them had something weird on his head.”

“That is strange,” Hotrod mused.

“INNOCENT,” the Quintesson added.

Arcee, one of the more reasonable of the bunch, said, “They’re probably just here to rock out like everyone else.” Bumblebee and Soundwave, wanting to put in their two cents, nodded in agreement.

Unicron, stoic as always, just stared, then went back to finishing up tuning his guitar.

“Ah, you’re probably right, Arcee. I’m gonna keep an eye on them anyway, though.”  

With that matter out of the way, Rumble stepped up onto the stage, and was greeted with an uproar of cheering and applause. He stood at the center of the stage for a moment, hands on his hips, taking it all in, then retreated to his drum set. Arcee and Hotrod were the next ones out, the pink bot waving and blowing a kiss or two. As always, the humans loved it. Then came Unicron and the Quintesson, with Soundwave and Bumblebee hanging back, just barely offstage.

Arcee briefly scanned the crowd, then tapped Hotrod on the shoulder. The two turned their backs to the mass of cheering humans, and Arcee said, “Way in the back, off to the right a bit, there’s four of them. Rumble was right.”

Rumble couldn’t help but overhear them, they were facing him after all, and he exclaimed a little too loudly, “I told you so!”

Hotrod glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a very obvious piece of orange headgear. “They’re hard to miss, aren’t they?”

* * *

 

“I’m guessing that’s them?” Meouch asked as soon as all the bots were accounted for, tilting his head in the direction of the stage. It was a rhetorical question more than anything else, which he followed up with, “They’re pretty hard to miss, that’s for sure.”

Sung bounced on his toes, partly out of nervous energy and excitement, and partly to see over the crowd in front of the four of them. They hadn’t bothered to try passing as humans, instead opting to keep a low profile by hiding in the shadows. So far, it was working. Not a soul in the crowd paid them any mind aside from the occasional weird stare.

For a few minutes, the four let the energy of being _in_ a crowd instead of in front of one envelope them, embracing the contagious excitement, and cheering when Hotrod and Arcee stood at their respective microphones, looking just as excited as everyone else.

With four cymbal crashes and an intense guitar riff courtesy of Unicron, the show began.

Hotrod launched into his opening speech about how the band had traveled to Earth from Cybertron, and how they were beyond good and evil, beyond anyone’s wildest imagination, brought together by the power of rock, as a face-melting riff pulsed behind him.

“I told you they’re the real deal!” Sung yelled over the combined noise of Hotrod’s powerful voice, the equally powerful music that backed him up, and the noise of the crowd.

“ _If they are anything like their cartoon counterparts,  they’ll hopefully be decent fighters_ ,” Phobos stated, gently reminding Sung that they came here for a reason, and it was not leisure. However, if Boredom turned out to be a hoax, Phobos absolutely wanted to pick Unicron’s brain about his guitar skills. The unwavering orange being towered over the rest of the bots, wielding an 8-stringed guitar like it was nothing at all. The Quintesson had also piqued his interest, having both a guitar and a keyboard at his disposal. The strange tentacled alien seemed to have just as many talents as he had faces.

Meouch was going to say something about how he hoped the pink one was a better fighter than her cartoon self, vaguely remembering her role in the “documentary” being little more than that of a babysitter, when she suddenly leaned into her microphone, unleashing an “ARE YOU READY?!” that stunned him into silence.

It had clearly stunned Sung just as much, and he supposedly knew the most about this band.

What were they getting themselves into?

As the Spree launched into the _Transformers_ theme song, it was easy to note that despite being relatively static on sage, their sheer presence had a life of its own, an electric energy that absolutely exuded power. It was contagious, nigh impossible to ignore. Sung was the one who felt it the most, finding it suddenly difficult to hold on to the thought that they were here to recruit these robots for the potential fight against Boredom, not to simply enjoy their show and leave with the experience etched into their memories. They began playing the next song, and things slowly became clear to him.

Where Lord Phobos, Havve Hogan, Commander Meouch, and himself were able to utilize the power of groove, the Cybertronic Spree was able to harness the power of rock. To what extent, he could not determine, they probably didn’t know either, but they were absolutely a force to reckon with. He made a mental note to tell them this if the chance were to arise.

The energy in the building doubled when Arcee moved out from behind her keyboard to take over the microphone in the center of the stage. For the most part, the vocal duties were evenly split between her and Hotrod, but _Instruments of Destruction_ was her time to shine. She’d have the chance again when it came time to sing _Cybertronic Warrior_ and _Hunger_ , but first impressions were everything.

About two thirds of the way through the song, Meouch grabbed Sung’s arm and yelled into his ear, “DUDE! She’s a fuckin’ powerhouse! I mean, the red and yellow one, Hotrod, he is too, they all are, but holy shit!”

Sung nodded, hearing the words but barely paying attention because of how enraptured he was. His eye moved from one bot to the next, never able to focus on one thing for more than a couple seconds. With so much energy and so many colors, how were the humans not as dazed as him? Perhaps they were, just better at dealing with it. Was this how people reacted every time he was on stage? He hoped so. It was all too easy for him to get caught up in his own head, so he was never sure.

Lord Phobos felt just as caught up in the moment as Sung, if not more. He stood between Havve and Meouch, eyes fixed blankly on the stage, experiencing effects not unlike those of listening to funk without his helmet on as a buffer. There was this light fogginess that started at the back of his head and moved outward in tendrils, until his whole mind was enraptured with what he was hearing. The sensation of listening to rock was not unlike that of funk at all, except Phobos was wearing his helmet. It was made to be an apparatus that would allow him to listen to the intoxicating music without experiencing the less desirable effects. Obviously, this genre had a bit more kick to it, rendering his helmet ineffective. At least, he told himself, he felt okay; perhaps a little hyper-aware, but okay.

Havve gave Phobos a gentle nudge to make sure he was still functioning before continuing to tap his right foot to the beat of the music. He was, of course, mostly keeping his glowing red eyes on the drummer, the purple one he was about ninety percent sure was called Rumble. He was just as sure that Rumble was keeping his shiny red visor glued to him as well, for what reason he would not know until they were able to approach the band.

Commander Meouch was… Well… it certainly seemed like he was having a really fucking good time. He blended in almost perfectly with the ecstatic crowd, appearance aside. He was quite fond of the concert scene, the energy the environment provided, the feeling of being surrounded by people just as excited to be in that one place as he was. It was not something he had been able to experience much since they arrived on Earth.

One song faded into the next, with bits of pop culture-riddled stage banter interspersed between them. The humans seemed to understand each joke fully, but for the four aliens, it was like they were speaking another language. Havve and Sung picked up on a few references, but Meouch and Phobos were absolutely clueless, knowing next to nothing about what Earth people were into.

For a few songs, two adorably small bots, one blue and one yellow, emerged on stage behind Hotrod and Arcee. The blue one, Soundwave, and the yellow, Bumblebee, danced around, tossed balloons into the crowd, and generally kept the already high energy levels at their peak.

Meouch elbowed Sung, attempting to make a joke about how he wasn’t the shortest yellow thing he’d ever seen anymore, but his friend was barely paying attention. Or willfully ignoring the jab at his height, it was difficult to tell.

After a couple more songs, Sung’s nervous energy returned. The show was winding down, and he found himself bouncing on his toes, contemplating how to approach the group of robots instead of enjoying the last song they would play for the night. It was the crowd’s uproarious applause and a glimpse of the Quintesson and Unicron leaving the stage that snapped him back into the present.

The flash of worry that crossed his face was evident enough for Phobos to notice. “ _Doctor, they won’t be leaving yet. We can wait for the humans to clear out and then go speak to them._ ”

He nodded. The four held fast to their spot at the back of the building, waiting.

* * *

 

“They aren’t leaving,” were the first words out of Rumble’s vocal processor once the band was fully settled backstage. He flicked at the bright green straw in his celebratory bottle of energon. Unicron had already downed two bottles, and was halfway through his third. Bumblebee and Soundwave were sharing one. It was a post-show tradition of theirs, and an expensive one, at that. Energon was hard to come by.

Hotrod took a sip from his own bottle before asking, “Are you still going on about those weird guys?”

“Listen, man! They’re up to something!”

“INNOCENT.”

“I’m with the Quint on this one,” Hotrod said, nodding in his direction.

“Arcee!” Rumble pleaded, hoping to get one of them on his side.

She held up her index finger, effectively shutting them all up while she chugged the rest of her energon. “Rumble,” she said, “if you’re so worried about what they’re up to, why don’t you just go out and talk to them? Most of the humans are gone now.”

“No way.” Rumble remembered the glowing red eyes of one of the strangers, and how it seemed like they were boring a hole right through him. He wasn’t at all afraid of talking to strangers, but something about these, especially that one, was particularly intimidating. Intriguing, but intimidating. He would leave the talking to someone else. Like…

“You go talk to them, Arcee!” he exclaimed.

“What?! Why do I have to--?”

“People like you.”

“He has a point,” Hotrod piped up, the tone of his voice indicating how glad he was that Rumble didn’t suggest he go instead. Soundwave and Bee nodded behind him. She shot them all a glare.

Arcee sighed. She walked over and peeked out from backstage, spotting the only four souls left in the place other than them. Turning around, she grabbed the last unopened bottle of energon before Unicron or Hotrod could get their hands on it, saying, “I’m probably gonna need this,” as she began making her way across the now-empty venue.


	3. Run With Us

“Just go back there and talk to them, already!”

“ _Commander Meouch!_ Are you out of your damn mind? I am _not_ just going to--”

Sung paused briefly in the middle of his sentence, a questioning look crossing his face. Meouch, Phobos, and Havve were all staring just over his right shoulder, almost directly behind him. He whirled around, intending to follow their perplexing gazes but instead finding himself almost chest to chest with a rather unamused-looking pink and white robot.

“--to--” Sung stuttered, looking up into her glowing blue optics. She had a good couple inches in height on him, subtracting the cone, and was making it painfully obvious by standing as close as she was.

“Not going to do what, exactly?” she inquired in a tone that was blunt, but not unfriendly.

He took a couple large steps back, almost bumping into Meouch, and then nearly stepping on Phobos’s foot. “I-- Well you see, I-- I, uh--” He clasped and unclasped his hands together as he stuttered, at one moment pointing upward like he finally knew what to say before changing his mind and retracting the raised index finger. His three so-called _friends_ made no move to help him out.

She stared him down, glancing at the other three for good measure, just to make the poor guy squirm. To Sung, the moment seemed like an eternity, but wasn't even half a minute. Finally, she smiled, her whole face lighting up, and said, “Well, obviously, none of you are from Earth. What brought you to our show?” It was an observation anyone with half a brain could’ve made, them being some sort of aliens, and it was a little shocking to her that the humans were so oblivious. They had better things on their minds, she supposed. The four seemed harmless enough, if not downright intimidated by her, so she felt like she could afford to be nice.

Meouch nudged Sung forward, and he almost tripped again, but was able to pull himself together enough to stand up a little straighter, extend his hand, and say, “I’m Doctor Sung of the band Tupperware Remix Party!” He spoke quickly, and in a move that was equal parts bold and stupid added, “You look a lot stronger in real life.”

Arcee took his hand, giving it a light bone-crushing squeeze as she shook it. “Nice to meet you. And I know,” she said confidently, giving him a smirk.

She released the grip on his hand and he flexed his fingers, trying not to look too surprised.

As if attempting to smooth over the… questionable… first impression that Sung had provided her with, Meouch piped up from behind him, “I’m the bassist of the band. Commander Meouch. The red one is our guitarist, Lord Phobos, and the bot is Havve Hogan, our drummer. Doc plays keys.”

Short, sweet, to the point. He wanted Sung to get through his spiel about Boredom quickly so they could just talk about music and shit. He also wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge that there was a real threat on the horizon. Unless the Doctor knew something no one else did, Meouch could not wrap his head around why Boredom would come back to Earth without a leader.

Arcee’s expression changed slightly. Her smile faded away, and the light in her optics seemed to dull. “Alright, what’s your deal? You want to open for us? Want us to open for you? We aren’t exactly an easy act to follow, y’know.”

“Obviously,” Sung started. “But no, that’s not it at all. We--”

Havve’s vocal processor crackled to life. “WHAT THE COMMANDER DID NOT MENTION IS THAT WE ARE A BAND THAT HAS FOUGHT OFF AN EVIL FORCE CALLED ‘BOREDOM,’ AND WE WILL SOON HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN.”

Phobos and Sung were nodding aggressively. Meouch shrugged.

“I knew I’d need this,” Arcee sighed as she removed the cap from the bottle of energon. “Follow me. You can explain to all of us at once.” She turned and began making her way back to where the rest of the bots were anxiously waiting, motioning over her shoulder for them to follow, then gulping down energon the rest of the way.

“Arcee! You survived!” Rumble exclaimed as she rounded the corner the band had been hiding beyond.

“So what was up with those guys?” Hotrod asked.

“Haven’t figured that out yet. I thought they could explain it themselves.”

Sung slowly stepped into view of the robots, and his three bandmates followed. He smiled, giving a polite little wave, and began following it up with an introduction not unlike the one Meouch gave Arcee.

“We’re a band called Tupperware Remix Party--”

“That’s a dumb name,” Rumble interjected, and Soundwave shoved his arm.

“I’m Doctor Sung, I play keys. That’s Commander Meouch, our bassist.” He nodded in Meouch’s direction. “Lord Phobos is our guitarist and Havve Hogan is our drummer.” As if on cue, Phobos bounced to attention, holding up a hand in greeting. Havve opted to loom menacingly.

Unicron took this as a challenge, moving to stand next to Hotrod and stare down the shorter, almost equally spiky robot.

Rumble, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. “Hey! Another drummer bot! Nice to meet ya, Hogan!” His previous reluctance towards the other band melted away, and he sauntered up to Havve like he had known him for decades, holding up his hand for a high five. “Up top, buddy!”

“THIS IS NOT A GESTURE I AM FAMILIAR WITH PERFORMING.”

“Playing hard to get, huh? You’ll come around.” He balled his hand into a fist, hitting Havve playfully on the arm, just below the shoulder spikes.

“Okay,” Hotrod said. “So you’re a band. What’s your deal? Why are you here?”

“We’re aliens.” Sung stated.

“From the future,” Meouch added.

“AND THE NINETEEN EIGHTIES.”

“ _And we came to Earth to fight Boredom._ ”

“You’ve mentioned Boredom twice now,” Arcee pointed out. “What exactly _is_ it?”

“CURRENTLY, IT IS AN ARMY.”

Hotrod sighed. “You had me, and then you lost me.”

“Allow me to explain,” Sung said, stepping forward. He glanced at each of the robots’ confused faces, then began. “Boredom has two goals. The first is to make the universe miserable, but it tends to be more focused on Earth and humans because of the second goal, which is to possess The Device.”

“What’s the device?” Rumble asked, interrupting Sung yet again.

“The Device, with capital letters,” he continued. “It’s a powerful… thing… and Boredom can’t get it.”

Arcee crossed her arms. “Do you know where this thing is and what it does?”

Phobos placed a hand on Sung’s shoulder. “ _Doctor, I suspected you knew more about this than you previously let on. Did we not kill Boredom’s leader and destroy The Device?_ ”

“Yeah, Doc, you told us The Device was gone.”

Sung laughed nervously, his three bandmates and the seven robots all staring at him. “Oh… Did I?”

Meouch sighed, running a hand through his mane. “Just-- Just keep talking about Boredom. We’ll figure out the Device shit later.”

“Sorry to interrupt the family drama,” Rumble was on his third interruption now, “but if Boredom wants The Device, and The Device still exists, I’m guessing with you guys, does that mean Boredom is coming here to get it?”

“PRECISELY!” Sung exclaimed.

“ _Boredom was once led by a doctor_ _,_ ” Phobos added, “ _and it is true that he is dead, but apparently an army has been raised. Now that we are aware they are after The Device,_ ” he shot a glare at Sung that could be felt despite the fact he was wearing his helmet, “ _they probably also seek vengeance for the death of their old leader._ ”

Arcee had been leaning against a table with her arms crossed, but she was now standing between TWRP and the rest of the Spree. “This is very interesting, Doctor, and you’re lucky we believe every word of it so far, but why are you telling us?”

“You--” Sung stared at Arcee, genuinely surprised. The tiniest of hopeful smiles crept onto his face. “You believe us?!”

She shrugged. “Sure. After all, you’re talking to a band of robots that transform into cars, a cassette and cassette player, and a whole goddamn planet. The Quintesson is an exception, but he’s with us.”

“INNOCENT.”

“Alright,” he said, and then, with more confidence, “Alright! Well, a fight with Boredom is imminent, and we can’t take on a whole army by ourselves.”

“WOAH! Hold on!” Hotrod was standing as well now. “There’s only seven of us! And four of you. We haven’t fought anyone in years, and I don’t like those odds.”

Meouch stepped over to him, throwing his left arm around Hotrod’s shoulders as if they were old friends. “One bassist to another, bud, you might wanna hear the Doc out. He’s smarter than he looks and acts.” As a mumbled afterthought, he added, “Even when he doesn’t tell us fuckin’ important information.” Knowing that The Device still existed made the idea of Boredom coming back a lot more plausible, and he was mentally kicking Sung's ass for lying about it all this time.

“Thank you, Meouch! Now,” Sung continued, “Boredom does have its weaknesses, and we happen to possess a big one: the force that is known as Groove. We’ve been able to harness its power for as long as we’ve been a band, and it’s what we used to kill Boredom’s leader.”

“But isn’t this… this Groove… just a sensation? A feeling?” Arcee questioned.

“Sort of. I could give you a crash course in Groove Physics all day, but for now you just have to trust me.”

She nodded, only vaguely understanding.

“DOCTOR, YOU ARE RE-ENTERING CONVERSATIONAL TERRITORY WE HAVE NOT PREVIOUSLY DISCUSSED.”

“I’m aware, Havve,” Sung assured him. “This is something I had to witness in the flesh to be sure of, though.” He stretched his arms out in front of him in an excited gesture that was meant to encompass the whole Spree. “You guys don’t know it, but you’ve harnessed something stronger than Groove!”

“And what’s that?” Arcee and Hotrod asked, almost in unison.

“The power of Rock!”

Unicron brought one hand up to his face. He, for one, was growing slightly tired of this nonsense. He was aware that he had once possessed many powers, sure, but that was not one of them.

Sung noticed, and tried to elaborate. “Arcee was correct when she asked if it’s just a feeling, because it can be, but also wrong, because it isn’t. It’s a force, and it follows you, and Boredom hates it because it doesn’t adhere to, well, the concept of Boredom! It’s loud and fun and they hate it, but it makes us stronger.”

“How long until Boredom gets here?” asked Rumble, thoroughly confused and ready to get to the action.

“LAST WEEK, WHEN WE HEARD OF BOREDOM’S APPEARANCE IN THE KEPLER SYSTEM, I PERFORMED SOME CALCULATIONS. THEY COULD ARRIVE ON EARTH WITHIN THREE TO FIVE DAYS, DEPENDING ON THEIR TECHNOLOGY.”

Rumble looked up at Havve in awe. “Smart too, huh?”

“I AM AS SMART AS THE DOCTOR NEEDS ME TO BE.”

“Oh, so you’re his errand bot or somethin’?”

“LITTLE PURPLE MENACE, I AM HIS BANDMATE AND COMPANION.”

“So,” Sung changed the subject, “will you guys help us fight Boredom?”

The bots all looked at each other, exchanging glances, speaking without saying a word. It was impossible to guess how they were going to answer, if they could even decide on one.

Sung doubted the bots would split up for such a reason, but if push came to shove, he would be happy with half of the Spree joining the fight as opposed to none of them.

“Give us time to think it over,” Arcee finally answered, crushing Sung’s sliver of hope in that moment like the way she crushed his hand when she shook it: unexpectedly and with some sort of unknown intent behind it. She seemed to gauge his reaction, and determined that the shell-shocked, hopeless look was enough of a reason to apologize. “Sorry, Doctor, but you’re asking a lot of us. Give us a day or two to think it over.”

“We’ll contact you,” Hotrod added, not specifying how, or asking for an address or anything, just saying that it would happen. This did not go unnoticed by the other band.

Phobos put a hand on Sung’s shoulder. “ _It’s late. We should be going home. There is not much else we can do here._ ”

The four said tense goodbyes to the band of robots, then began finding their way back to the entrance to the venue through which they came earlier that night.

“You guys put on a great show!” Meouch yelled over his shoulder before exiting the building.

* * *

 

A lone figure stood on the main deck of the dreadnought, the mask over his face allowing him to breathe and the the magnets in his boots keeping him attached to the colossal hunk of metal beneath him.

The ship was flanked by four cruisers on either side, each armed with a few small cannons, but for the most part their purpose was to scout and carry a troop of about twenty soldiers in each. The figure turned his head slowly, counting each cruiser, and estimating the power contained in the quick little reconnaissance vessels.

His shoulders shook slightly as he chuckled to himself. The real power was contained in the dreadnought. It carried the amount of soldiers in all of the cruisers combined times ten, was armed to the teeth with blasters and cannons and bombs of many kinds, and had the best on-board systems this side of Betelgeuse.

Just as he noticed the asteroid belt on the horizon, a subordinate officer began approaching slowly, activating the proximity commlink that was standard for the gas mask-like contraptions covering their faces.

“Sir, we are approaching the Kuiper Belt at the edge of the Solar System.” He gave a quick salute before the other figure gestured for him to stand at ease.

It was impossible to tell, but a grin had spread across the higher officer’s face. He laced his fingers behind his back, which was surprisingly easy despite the thick black gloves he wore. “Very good. We will be within Earth’s orbit soon, yes?”

“Within three days at most, sir.”

He nodded slowly, savoring the information.

“General, sir, if i may ask, do you think we will be able to retrieve The Device?”

The general hummed, a sign that the subordinate had asked an idiotic question. As distorted as their voices were, both naturally and by the masks they were, it was near impossible to tell a hum from a groan, or any other noise, for that matter. The entire army and the race they were a fascinating majority of all spoke in a heavily warped manner, with thick accents made more difficult to understand by the grating tone they all spoke in. The first impression one would have upon to talking to one of them would be: sinister.

“Forgive me if I spoke out of line,” the officer continued, “but it has been years since we have seen The Device; for all we know, it could have been destroyed! Our leader--”

“ _I_ am your leader,” the general hissed as he turned and grabbed the subordinate by the collar of the trenchcoat he wore over his space suit. It was part of the standard uniform, the general was wearing one as well, but at that moment the frightened officer was wishing he had broken uniform protocol just this once.

“But the Doctor--”

“The Doctor,” the general began, paused for effect, then leaned in so close that their masks touched, “ _is dead. He has been for years. I am your leader now. You answer to me._ ”

“Y--yes sir,” the officer choked out, then twisted free of the general’s grip and retreated back inside the dreadnought. He would face the consequences of leaving without being dismissed later.


	4. The Touch

Two days after their first meeting, the Cybertronic Spree found themselves crowded into TWRP’s cluttered basement. They had arrived at the Groove Station around noon, much to the surprise of Lord Phobos, who had happened to answer the door, and Commander Meouch, who was standing behind him with a slice of pizza dangling rather ungracefully from his mouth.

“We decided to help you,” Rumble declared, pushing past both of them and taking a look at the unfamiliar surroundings. “Nice place.” He turned to Meouch. “Where’s the rest of that pizza?”

Dumbfounded, Meouch pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.

“Yeah, what Rumble said,” Hotrod told Phobos. “We’d like to help you guys fight Boredom. Also the pizza thing.”

Phobos stepped aside, letting the rest of the Spree enter. “ _ Sung is in the basement with Havve. I will go get him _ .”

“Go get Havve, too!” Rumble yelled over the slice of pizza he had just pilfered. “That guy’s pretty cool!”

He nodded, backing away from the scene and relishing in the silent safety of the basement stairway after he quickly shut the door behind him. He would leave Meouch to entertain the seven robots. The Groove Station was already a bit of a mess, borderline unfit for company, and the Lord shivered slightly at the thought of what an even bigger mess it would probably be after they left.

His heart skipped a frightening beat when he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the sorry state the basement was in. Phobos knew that Sung loved his organized mess of tools, parts, and unfinished projects, and it’s not like he and Meouch ever ventured into the basement very often, nor would it be likely that their guests would, however, the general air about the place made the clutter seem tense and depressing instead of a sign of two inventive minds. The way Sung was rapidly tapping his foot while he listlessly pecked at a circuit board with a pair of pliers seemed to add to the effect even more. Havve was the only grounding force in the room as he sifted through the radio guts in front of him, looking for a screw he had misplaced.

“CAN YOU PASS ME THAT SCREWDRIVER?”

“Phillips or flathead?” Sung asked, his tone light and distant.

“PHILLIPS.”

Phobos gave the wall next to the stairs three light knocks.

Sung jumped, startled out of his worried concentration. “Oh, hey Phobos. Need something?”

“ _ The Cybertonic Spree has agreed to help us fight Boredom and they are upstairs eating our pizza as we speak _ .”

This caused Havve to look up from his work, and Sung nearly fell over as he leapt out of his seat, making a beeline for the stairs.

“Holy shit, guys, we still have a chance!” He called down to them excitedly from the second highest step, jumping in place and then bursting through the door like a bat out of hell.

Phobos turned to Havve, who was still fiddling with that damned radio. A goofy little grin spread across his face. “ _ I think Rumble wants to see you again. You should come up and say hello _ .”

“NO.”

“ _ And why not? _ ”

“HE IS… ANNOYING.”

Phobos scoffed. “ _ And Sung isn’t? _ ”

Havve mulled this over for a moment. “I HAVE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO BECOME ACCUSTOMED TO THE DOCTOR’S PARTICULAR BRAND OF ANNOYANCE.”

“ _ Go. _ ” Phobos had his hands on his hips, his best attempt at being menacing, but instead it made him look more like a child about to pout or throw a tantrum. Havve relented nonetheless, sulking up the stairs and hoping that maybe his friend had lied about the Spree being present.

He had not.

Sung was standing between Hotrod, Arcee, and Unicron, thanking them profusely for deciding to help in the fight against Boredom and touching on the edges of what exactly they would be going up against. If Havve had eyebrows, he would have furrowed them. 

Meouch was attempting to wrangle the last remaining slice of pizza from one of the Quintesson’s tentacles while Soundwave and Bumblebee looked on and were clearly laughing, despite apparently not having the ability to speak. Phobos rushed over to assist him, but instead was pushed and held away by another tentacle around his middle.

Bee seized the opportunity to snatch the pizza from the Quintesson, taking a bite before jokingly offering it to Soundwave, who had no mouth.

Meouch sighed. “I give up.”

“INNOCENT,” the Quintesson said as he released Phobos.

Havve did not even notice Rumble until the shorter bot was already next to him, half a slice of pizza in his hand.

“Hey, Hogan!” he said excitedly. “You ready to kick some ass together? I know I am!”

“ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE EQUIPPED FOR THAT SORT OF THING?” Havve asked, mostly to taunt the little menace.

Rumble took it in stride. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve.” He then  tilted his head to the side, one half of his red visor dimming significantly for a split second. Presumably, he was winking.

Havve focused his attention away from Rumble, noticing that everyone else seemed to be suddenly fixed on Arcee, who was asking Sung a question.

He looked afraid.

“Geez,” Rumble said, “she’s really puttin’ the fear of Primus into him.”

Havve did not bother with asking who the fuck Primus was. “THE DOCTOR TENDS TO BE WARY OF PINK ROBOTS NOWADAYS.”

“Do I even wanna know what that entails?”

“YOU DO NOT. IT IS A LONG STORY.”

He shrugged. “The Doc isn’t her type, anyway.”

“ _ How soon?! _ ” Arcee’s optics were glowing fiercely, and Hotrod looked less than pleased with whatever Sung had just said, too, but seemed more concerned with making sure no one got hurt or decided to back out of the fight entirely. 

“Tomorrow,” Sung said quietly. “We need to get to them before they get to us…”

“So today?” Hotrod offered.

“That would be preferable.”

“I’ve got a ship we can all fit in,” Meouch piped up from where he was now seated on the couch. “It’ll be a real squeeze, but she’ll be able to handle it.”

“How--?” Hotrod started to ask, confused, but dropped it, shaking his head.

“What about The Device?”

“Arcee,” Sung said, “I was hoping you’d forget about that.” He sighed. “The Device has to stay here. It’s dangerous.”

“ _ The Device is here?! _ ” Lord Phobos was shocked, and he noticed Meouch raising a questioning eyebrow at Sung, but other than that it was dismissed. Where else would Sung hide it? Of course The Device was with them.

“Can we at least see it?”

“Why would you want to--?”

“To know what we’re fighting for.” She put it so simply, and it made for a convincing argument.

He relented. “Fine. But we have to be careful. It’s in the basement,” he said as he started towards the door to said basement. “I suppose we would’ve had to come down here at some point.” He began descending the stairs, his bandmates and the Spree following in a scraggly line. “We’ve got some stuff down here we’re gonna need.”

They crowded into the darkened room, and Sung began pretending to clean up his organized mess in a futile attempt to prolong showing off The Device. He grabbed tools and senselessly tossed them into bins, leaned spare boards and hunks of metal against a wall, even went about pushing the workbench out of the middle of the room.

Arcee saw right through these actions, but made no move to stop him just yet. She happened to notice a piece of pipe in the far corner of the room that looked out of place among the rest of the plumbing along the walls. It also seemed to glow slightly.

“So!” Sung heaved the word out as he shoved at the dense table. “Tell us about yourselves. Any good fighting strategies?”

Rumble was the first to answer, proudly exclaiming, “My arms can turn into piledrivers!”

Phobos was pulling a stepladder into the middle of the room, and almost dropped it.

He then demonstrated how he could, in fact, turn his arms into piledrivers, and this earned him an approving look from Havve. The bright purple metal then began moving and shifting and gliding against itself in ways that almost magically made the piledrivers turn back into arms. Havve was thoroughly impressed, and Rumble absolutely noticed. “You like that, Hogan?” he asked cheekily.

“I-- YES, ACTUALLY, I DO.” This response elicited a few chuckles from Sung and Meouch, but Havve was not currently in the mood to put them in their place.

Phobos was now ascending the stepladder he had placed in the middle of the room, and had started to feel around the rafters for  _ something  _ when Hotrod said, “Unicron used to be a planetary god of destruction,” which made him nearly fall off the ladder.

“Holy shit! Lord Phobos, are you okay?” He asked.

Meouch was crouched in the corner where the stairs met the wall, feeling around the cracked concrete floor for a certain piece he could lift. “Keep the words ‘planetary’ and ‘destruction’ out of the same sentence around Phobos. Brings up some gruesome memories. Aha!” He grasped the loose piece, lifted it away from the floor with one hand, and pulled a sort of small, rectangular box out from underneath it with another.

Arcee picked up where Hotrod left off. “Unicron used to be a god until we destroyed his body, then he just became a floating head. When we shrunk him and ourselves down, we got the Quintesson to make him a new body so he could play guitar.”

Hotrod took over again. “But it’s imperfect, no offense, Quint, which is why he can’t speak. And he lacks all of his godly powers except…”

“He can make his guitar shoot lightning!” Rumble finished.

Phobos had retrieved a long object wrapped in several pieces of cloth from the rafters, and was now staring at Unicron, holding the dusty thing dumbly. 

“Jealous, Phobos?” Meouch asked.

“ _ Admittedly, a little. I was in awe of your skills, Unicron, and now I am grateful that they will be able to assist us _ .”

The orange giant nodded. 

“ _ Do you have your guitar with you? _ ”

Arcee answered, “No, but we’ll send Bee and Soundwave to get it. By the way, they’re inseparable, and have plenty of practice fighting each other. It won’t be hard for them to work together.”

On cue, the two little bots ascended the stairs.

“What about the Quintesson?” Meouch inquired as he fiddled with the two latches on the box. “Can he do anything cool?”

“INNOCENT.”

“And does he say anything other than that?”

“He’s still a bit of a mystery to us, too, so we aren’t entirely sure,” Arcee told him as she subtly inched her way towards the glowing piece of pipe. “And yes, sometimes he sings.”

Meouch raised an eyebrow at that remark, then lifted the latches, opening the box. He pulled out a pistol-sized blaster, stood, made a poor display of spinning the gun around his finger, and then slid it into the no-longer-empty holster on his thigh. “Well,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

“You’re already better off than Arcee and I,” Hotrod laughed, trying to make light of things. “We turned in our own blasters a long time ago. From then on out it’s just been punching and kicking.” He performed the actions as he said them.

Arcee was halfway to the glowing pipe.

Phobos had been listening to Meouch and Hotrod, but Unicron tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of the minor daze. The large bot pointed to the wrapped object in his hands, and Phobos started, having almost forgotten he was even holding it. In one smooth gesture, he removed the cloth from the object it was concealing, revealing a broadsword with a dull golden hilt. It had obviously not seen use in a very long time.

“You still know how to use that thing?” Sung huffed, giving the workbench one last shove before it hit the wall. Damned thing was heavy. He probably wouldn’t be moving it back any time soon.

Phobos nodded, taking the hilt in his right hand, testing the sword’s heft, and giving it a couple experimental swings. 

Unicron nodded approvingly.

Arcee was now standing in front of the glowing pipe, the place where she assumed The Device was hidden, and if Sung wouldn’t show it to them, she’d show everyone herself. Or look like an idiot, but that was a risk she was more than willing to take.

Sung was looking about the room, mumbling about a misplaced pair of favorite nunchucks, which he found under an upturned bin of cables and copper wiring. He picked them up with a quick, happy little gasp of relief, which turned into one of mild horror when he stood and turned around.

Arcee had the piece of pipe, which was about three feet long, in her grasp and was tipping it into her hand.

“Nonono no NO!” he squawked, lunging across the room, shouldering between Phobos, Unicron, and the Quintesson. “You can’t touch that it’ll--” His voice rose to a pitch that was hard to imagine coming from him, and was abruptly cut off as she grasped the end of The Device in her hand and…

He froze, barely a foot away from her, his hand reaching out to grab the pipe but stopped cold.

“It’ll what?” she asked, pulling the rest of the two-and-a-half-foot long Device from its container. 

Static crackled throughout the air around the long, glowing, pale blue rod that was The Device. Even at a slight distance, Sung could feel the heat and electricity emanating from it. It was pure power, and she could hold it like it was a toy.

Phobos, Meouch, and Havve almost reluctantly crowded behind Sung, wanting to see the thing they thought was destroyed years ago, and the rest of the Spree wanted to get a good look at what they were helping keep in the right hands. Soundwave and Bumblebee picked the perfect moment to rush down the stairs, Unicron’s guitar slung over Soundwave’s shoulder.

“How is it not burning or shocking you?!” Sung asked incredulously, stuck in a state of awe.

She shrugged. “It might have something to do with me being a robot.”

“But-- but I-- Havve?! It’s--”

“FLESH HANDS,” Havve reminded Sung.

“It’s a bit hard to burn metal.”

He sighed, still overwhelmed with shock and awe. 

Arcee was suddenly struck with an idea. If The Device was supposed to burn and/or electrocute whoever touched it, then…

“Doctor...” She repositioned The Device in her hand so that she was grasping the end of it similarly to the way Lord Phobos had been holding his sword. “Do you think you could fit a hilt on this thing?”

* * *

 

“General!” the subordinate officer shouted, bursting into the dreadnought’s control hub, only stopping momentarily to give a hasty salute, “Our two scouting cruisers are reporting a fast-approaching anomaly. There is a ninety-eight percent chance of it intercepting our course. Should we put up the shields and try to burn it?”

Every higher officer in the room turned to the harried subordinate, except for the general, who stood deep in thought, staring out into the inky void and the ever approaching light that was Earth. All eyes in the room then turned to him, waiting for orders. 

“Sir…?”

“I’m thinking…” the general said, slowly, deliberately, as if he was waiting for something. 

A sensor to his left began to flash, its blinking red light and persistent beeping permeating the silence in the room. He glanced at it and its warning of an approaching craft. It was not hard to spot the silver streak growing in the distance. 

To his right, another sensor began flashing, this one much louder, more of a siren than anything else, and the light was a pale, excruciating blue instead of a dangerous red. 

Gasps and whispers and strangled cries of surprise floated around the officers. 

The general chuckled. It was a dark, rasping, evil sound. Something perfectly fitting of the leader of Boredom. “Activate the artificial atmosphere and gravity. Order the cruisers to dock and all soldiers to the main deck. They have The Device.”


	5. Nothing's Gonna Stand In Our Way

The ship made for six was crowded, struggling to accommodate eleven, but speeding toward the dreadnought nonetheless. Meouch was in the pilot’s seat, squished uncomfortably between Sung and Hotrod.

“So,” the red and orange robot asked, “do we have a plan?”

Meouch shrugged.

“ _Plan?_ ” Sung looked appalled. “We don’t know the meaning of the word!”

Meouch shot him a look, and he could feel Phobos and Havve glaring behind him, silently saying this was not the time for jokes. “Actually,” he amended the statement, “I kind of have a plan.”

“Tell us quickly, Doc, the ship’s right fuckin’ there.”

“Well since you asked, Commander,” his voice then dropped into a more serious tone, “I’m staying near The Device.” He looked back at Arcee, who was wedged between Soundwave and Rumble. “No matter what.”

“Alright, what about the rest of us?”

He thought for a second, having gotten no further in his planning than not leaving The Device alone. Finally, “Stay in groups so you won’t get overwhelmed. Other than that, just wing it, I guess.”

“I’m sticking with Havve!” Rumble announced from the rear of the craft.

Havve shrugged, simply accepting his fate as Rumble’s new best friend.

Phobos, stuck on the “just wing it” part of Sung’s plan, asked, “ _What if they do not want to fight? Have we considered settling things diplomatically as an option?_ ”

Hotrod had been blocking Phobos’s view of the void outside, so he moved to the side to reveal the dreadnought, now scarily close to them, and the currently ant-sized beings swarming on its main deck. “Not an option. They want a fight.”

“WE WILL GIVE THEM ONE.”

* * *

 

The two bands stepped out of the tiny ship and onto the dreadnought’s main deck, its artificial gravity and atmosphere keeping the organic ones among them from suffocating and all of them from floating off into the void. They found themselves immediately swarmed and surrounded on all sides by Boredom’s army, but not overwhelmed or attacked. Not yet. It was as if they were waiting for something.

Hotrod, Meouch, and the Quintesson had broken off into one group, and were standing at the ready, back to back to back in a sort of triangular formation. Meouch had one hand on the blaster in its holster, but refused to draw it just yet, not wanting to be the first to draw blood.

Phobos, Unicron, Soundwave, and Bumblebee made their own little group, with Bee and Soundwave standing protectively on either side of Unicron, not that they thought he would need their protection. He held his guitar, his only real weapon, with ease. Phobos stood in front of him, one hand on the broadsword in its sheath at his hip, admiring Unicron’s sense of calm in the face of danger.

Rumble and Havve alone looked like a force to reckon with. They stood side by side, Rumble with his arms already transformed into piledrivers, and Havve with a dangerously large knife he had found… somewhere. Rumble glanced at him for a second, thought about questioning the knife’s presence, but decided this would not be the ideal time for inquiries. He made a mental note to ask later.

Sung and Arcee stood behind them all, between the three groups of allies and their tiny ship. The Doctor tried to appear more nonchalant than he actually felt, with one hand on his hip and the other clutching at the nunchucks he had slung over his right shoulder. He glanced nervously at Arcee, who had her back turned to him as she removed her newly-improvised weapon from the ship.

“Ahh, Tupperware Remix Party,” a rasping voice boomed across the deck, practically shaking it beneath them, “I see you’ve come to defend the wretched planet known as Earth. Not much has changed since you offed our previous leader, has it? Well, perhaps, since you appear to have brought some friends to witness your demise.” The voice then chuckled, sounding almost comically evil, but threatening nonetheless considering the situation they were in.

“If you’re not Doc Boredom,” Meouch shouted, looking around for the source of the voice that obviously belonged to the army’s leader, “who the fuck are you?!”

In that same moment, Arcee freed her weapon from the pipe it had remained contained in, her hand fitting perfectly around the freshly-welded metal of the hilt Sung and Havve had hastily worked to attach.

“I am—“ the voice boomed, then was cut short by a gravelly, almost sickly gasp that broke down into downright terrifying laughter upon spotting a distinct blue glow. “I truly can’t believe it! You brought us The Device!”

The voice dissolved into even more cackling, and another voice could faintly be heard behind it, asking, “General, are you going to give the command to attack?”

The laughter abruptly ceased.

“ ** _GET THE DEVICE!_ ** ”

One bravely stupid soldier, galvanized into action while the rest of the army hesitated at their leader’s informal command, leapt on top of and over the small ship with the hopes of striking down either Arcee or Sung from above, but was instead impaled as Arcee raised The Device-sword, electricity crackling down its length as the blue rod burned a hole through the soldier’s chest. She then flicked the sword to the side, flinging the body from it and onto the deck, a trail of thick green blood smearing behind it.

“Holy shit,” Sung muttered, only audible to himself.

The rest of the army moved inward upon their enemies like a wave, their main goal to overwhelm them and obtain The Device as quickly as possible, without meeting the same fate as their fallen comrade.

Rumble had also taken action, lunging forward and plunging both piledrivers into the deck, shaking everything beneath them. No one was prepared for the quaking ground, and several subjects of Boredom toppled over and into each other. A large crack began forming at Rumble’s feet, which then opened into a fissure that sent several soldiers plunging into the depths of the dreadnought with desperate, rasping cries. The purple robot laughed, shouting over the uproar, “If on humanity’s turf you happen to tumble, look out, Boredom, ‘cause here comes Rumble!”

As Boredom’s minions began recovering, the two bands began gaining confidence, and the real fighting started. The Quintesson had two soldiers by the throat, one in each tentacle, and would have had a third to contend with, but Meouch came in with a swift right hook and a blaster shot that sent green spraying across his feet. Hotrod was watching his back, and had delivered a crushing kick to another approaching enemy, following it up with a couple hard punches that sent the minion flying. Meouch finished him off with another couple shots, one that was poorly aimed and tore off the soldier’s arm, sending the appendage flying, and another through the abdomen. While that was going on, the Quintesson had been squeezing the throats of the two minions he had ensnared, and Hotrod and Meouch turned to face him in time to see two bodies with crushed necks fall to the ground.

Rumble had ceased pounding away at the deck of Boredom’s ship, instead opting to use his piledrivers to hit anything that got close enough to him, crushing the feet and hands and God only knew what else of dozens of enemies. He was standing back-to-back with Havve, who had one soldier’s neck locked in an iron grip with one hand, using him as a shield while he lashed out with his questionably-obtained knife at three others. The three went down moments later, oozing green, and the fourth soon followed, only to be replaced by another. The two robots stood in a sea of dark green, Havve slicked to the elbow in the stuff. He had to admit, he would have much rather been fighting alongside Sung, but the purple annoyance was really proving to be an admirable partner.

Phobos, Unicron, Soundwave, and Bumblebee, having the good sense to determine that taking out the leader would be the quickest way to victory, had cleared a substantial path to the area that, to them, looked like it lead to some sort of control room. They were correct in their assumption, and this caused more minions to be directed to surround and attack them. One slice from Phobos’s broadsword sent two to the ground, and a striking jab met its mark in another, sinking almost to the hilt. The Lord shuddered as he yanked it free, only to have to continue burying it in the near constant stream of targets. A single punch from Unicron sent one minion sprawling, and Soundwave and Bumblebee were passing another back and forth between them, taking turns pummeling each soldier that got in their way.

By a stroke of sheer dumb luck, one was able to land a hit on Bee, separating them from Soundwave and knocking them to the ground. The little yellow bot had been surrounded, and was fearing for the worst, when they were suddenly lifted by the arm.

“C’mon, pal, we’ve gotta keep going,” Sung said, tilting his head in the direction of Unicron, Phobos, and Soundwave, who was fighting his way towards them. Bee nodded, charging forward to meet up with their blue companion.

Arcee had been watching Sung’s back throughout the exchange, and he now rejoined her in their own rush to get to the control room. His jaw dropped at the sheer amount of carnage that surrounded her, and she was only rapidly adding to it with every sweep of The Device-sword.

“Well?!” she asked, cutting one minion who had gotten too close in half at the middle, “Are you going to stand there, or are you gonna help me?”

In place of a proper answer, he grabbed her arm and began sprinting through the carnage towards the control room. She was put off balance at first, struggled to keep up, then found herself running alongside him, swinging The Device-sword at anything that got within striking distance of it. Next to her, Sung was spinning his nunchucks as he ran, lashing out with the occasional strike, once wrapping them around a soldier’s wrist, yanking the being forward, kneeing him underneath the gas mask, then shoving him aside. A few times he stopped to land a few punches or kicks, rejoining Arcee afterward.

They were the first to make it to the tower at the aft-end of the dreadnought that appeared to house the control room, and most likely Boredom’s leader. They were joined momentarily by Havve and Rumble, to the surprise of both, then Phobos, Unicron, Soundwave, and Bee, and finally Hotrod, the Quintesson, and Meouch. Boredom’s army was still surging after them, backing the group against the tower, but a dent in the forces had clearly been made. A giant iron door was all that stood between them and their goal. Sung dumbly tried to open it, and then knock on it, before Rumble nudged him out of the way and set about piledriving a large dent in it that soon gave way to an opening.

One by one, they went through, with Rumble taking the lead and Meouch bringing up the rear, picking off soldiers with his blaster as they got too close for comfort.

The group came to a spiral staircase, and Sung took the lead from Rumble. Soldiers began piling through the gaping hole in the dreadnought’s tower, reaching the bottom of the staircase as they reached the top. Meouch was pressuring the group to hurry, and when Sung reached another iron hatch, he did not hesitate for a moment to attempt throwing it open, this time with success.

Four of the five figures in the room snapped to attention, drawing weapons, the first the two bands had seen on the dreadnought. The last figure, presumably the leader, remained with his back turned to them, his shoulders shaking slightly. His voice then rose into a laugh as he turned to face them. The leader of Boredom looked exactly the same as all his soldiers, just with a few more crests on his uniform.

Behind them, the rest of the army pushed the group forward until they were entirely in the room, then ceased, standing at attention to ensure the only way out was blocked.

“One wrong move,” the general spoke, “and it’s over.”

Unicron rested his hands on his guitar. Hotrod and the Quintesson were standing in front of him, blocking most of his body from view of their adversaries. Meouch holstered his blaster, and Phobos and Arcee lowered their weapons. They did this slowly, so as not to provoke anyone.

“I’m sorry, did we do something wrong?” Sung asked, putting on his most innocent smile.

Boredom’s leader scoffed.

“We’re only here to defend Earth from some bad guys.”

He ignored Sung’s words. “Give me The Device.”

Sung shrugged. “Sorry, don’t have it.”

Pointing at Arcee, the general shouted, “Make her give it to me, then!”

“Um, have you _seen_ her use that thing?! I’m not gonna be the one to take it away.”

Arcee had to hold back a laugh. She wasn’t quite sure of Sung’s motive behind what he was saying. To buy time? To piss the guy off? Whatever it was, he was giving it his all.

Somewhere behind her, Unicron started playing a few soft notes on his guitar, and things suddenly became a little clearer.

The general turned to her, and she grinned, squaring her shoulders. She looked like a force to reckon with.

“See?! Look at that!” he exclaimed. “There’s no hope, buddy. It’s just hers now.”

Unicron’s notes were building in intensity. No one on Boredom’s side seemed to notice. Static crackled down the neck of his guitar and around his fingers. Then, while the general was having a sort of stare-down with Sung and Arcee, Unicron cut loose, unleashing bolt after bolt of lightning from the guitar that struck down the general’s four guards and several of the soldiers behind him. One stray bolt just barely grazed the leader, bringing him to his knees.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sung crossed his arms, looking down at the general, “it was pretty stupid of us-- uh, _me_ to not destroy The Device, but it was even more stupid of you to think you could return to this solar system and take it.”

Arcee moved to stand next to Sung’s right side, shifting The Device-sword to her other hand and holding it out to him, watching him stare grimly at the cruel being in front of them.

Instead of taking the weapon from her, he placed his hand over hers, and together they plunged The Device through the leader of Boredom’s chest. With one last sickly gasp, the general slumped forward, then fell to the ground as the sizzling, glowing blue rod was drawn back.

“We should probably lay this thing to rest for real, now,” Sung said.

“May as well make an event out of it,” Arcee suggested.


End file.
